Silicon Heaven
by Rigil Paix
Summary: What is the dream of something artificial?
1. Default Chapter

Electric Sheep  
  
The year was somewhere in the 33 century, but everyone now refers to it as the start of New Earth time. Morpheus' fight for freedom has been won, humanity freed from their unwitting bonds, and the threat of genocide at the hands of their creations was quelled. A group of advanced computer technicians from the city of Zion were assigned the task of destroying all trace of perception from the databanks of the once sentient AI. Yet another group was assigned the task of clearing the scorched sky and renewing the ground above. Life was slowly gaining normalcy.  
In 400 NE, a group of 12 programmers came before the since-refounded World Government's leader, Caesar Ishtaria. They applied for a grant to rework the AI project. Naturally, he sent the application to a committee for delegation. The board was shocked and unanimously vetoed the grant application, and even went as far as denying government funds to anyone attempting this project.  
Undaunted, the programmers pursued a private, and hopefully very wealthy patron for their work. They found one Mick Aquila. After reviewing their work, he donated the sum of 3 million credits to their work. Being far beyond what they hoped, they made quick work over the next 20 years. They nicknamed the project "J".  
"J" was to be a revised version of the AI that nearly killed humanity not more than 450 years ago, and it was still fresh in everyone's mind. The programmers, now calling themselves the Pantheon, had devoted their lives to finding out what went wrong and fixing it, to set humanity back on it's proper path, so the thought went.  
The Pantheon built the learning process like an Easter Egg program, but there were so many, and so interwoven that they referred to it as an Onion; as it learned and combined certain things it could unlock the next step to it's learning, but only until it accepted everything there was to understand at the level before. As a final safety procedure, only the ruling Caesar was given the authority to activate the next program.  
The 20 years came and went. It was now 478 NE and it was time for the birth. After reviewing their options, the group, Aquila included, chose to make it the first item on the agenda for the newest Caesar, a woman named Peli, who was a liberal who wanted real progress. The Caesar read the journals, read the schematics, and read the program. Being a bit of a hacker herself on the side, (a fact that would make her famous for being the first impeached Caesar in 100 years,) she whipped the application for it's birth through all the Departments before it and gave it the most official "Go ahead" anyone could ask for. "J" was born February 21, 485 NE, at 120 pounds of silicon and steel. Its first word was, "Dad," recognizing it's creators.  
  
The experience was a new one to Marlene herself, but not a new one to her "friends." She had always wanted to try having sex, but she knew she shouldn't ask. Only her man could ask of her, but she would be more than willing to comply.  
"I really want to thank you, Marlene. I haven't been this satisfied since... God knows when." Mark breathed. He was winded but completely happy with himself. Marlene was really a good choice, he thought.  
"No, no, I want to thank you. I have been running for so long, I guess... I guess I never thought to employ myself like this," she lied. Another new experience for today, part of her thought.  
Mark kissed Marlene quickly on the cheek and started to sit up in bed. "Well, Marlene, you do everything splendid. What are you scheduled to do next?"  
"Well, I plan to run a viruscan on the house's systems in another second, so I advise you do not jump in the shower just yet."  
"Good idea," he said, arranging the sheets a little. "Have you got those eggs started?"  
"I thought you might enjoy them sunny-side up for a change. What do you think?"  
Another quick kiss on the cheek for Marlene. She was really going to like this 'lover' role. "Sounds good to me." Mark started to arrange the bed sheets again. "You sure you don't want anything?"  
"It would be pointless, Mark, remember? Anyway, the house is clean, if you wanted that shower."  
"Care to join me, Marlene?"  
Marlene smiled with enthusiasm. "I would love to." And yet another new experience, lust. The things you learn in a day...  
  
The Caesar stood with his back to the door, staring at the silent silicon city below, one of many in his care. He thought back to his childhood, trying to remember something... something other than the shimmering net of lights that stretched before him, but only a knock at the door came.   
"Caesar Andaria, sir?" said the acolyte, timidly.  
"Yes, Michael?"  
"The Core wishes to speak with you." The page looked away for a minute, and his eyes grew distant. Suddenly, his vision snapped back to the present. "He says it's a rather pertinent matter."  
"Alright. Patch him through, will you?"  
"Yes sir." The acolyte bowed out of the room and a teenage boy appeared beside the Caesar's arm and joined him in looking out the window.  
"Dad?" the boy said, his voice cracking. Andaria cracked a smile at this, thinking back to his own adolescence.  
"You know," the Caesar said, looking at the boy, "every time you say that, I always hear some part of me finish that thought, saying, 'Can I take the car tonight?'"  
"Hmm, I would not know. Being everywhere at the same time has it's advantages."  
"And disadvantages. While you may be able to see and hear and feel everything, there are some things you might reject, or discard as being more than you can handle."  
"Like overloading my memory? I do not think that could be possible because-"  
"No, not like that... I'm sorry, Jay. It's just, as human as you become, the more alien we seem. You know, obsolete."  
"No, no, Dad, do not think of it like that. You are still my father, and you will always mean the world to me." A moment's pause of awkward silence as both of them consider the other's words. The Caesar, bracing himself for the news, started first.  
"So, you said you had some important news for me?"   
"Yes, well..." the boy cleared his throat and harrumphed a bit to show he was embarrassed. Caesar Andaria caught himself thinking about how cute it was until he realized the boy was only doing this to put the man at ease, not himself. " Well, I think I have out grown this appearance."  
The Caesar smiled a little at the irony on the boy's sentence. "What a perfectly adolescent thing to say."  
"Well, wishing to grow up too fast is part of the life cycle, isn't it?"  
"Yes, but usually the life cycle only lasts 10 or 12 years. You, my friend, have been a boy since my father was."  
"I know. Do you mind that I still call you Dad?"  
"No, I don't mind. It's metaphorical, anyway, just as I say 'you' and mean the equivalent of the spine of this world."  
"Yes, I see what you mean." Another pause, as Andaria thought about Jay's proposition. He knew the decision would determine the fate of the world for the next 30 years. "I think you have matured enough to grow in form, Jay. I feel it's time."  
"Nice! I will see you soon, Dad," Jay said, grinning ear to ear as he winked out. Andaria was left again to his gleaming city and echoing thoughts.  
"Still, the last hint of adolescence flares up at the end. I hope with his growth he strengthens our world."  
  
"How far to the pin do you think it is, Vincent?" Trix asked, adjusting her grip on the 9 iron for the third time.  
The caddie switched the bag to the other hand and replied, "It is about 1,200 yards, Miss Trix, and may I make a suggestion?"  
"Sure," Trix shrugged, pushing her glasses higher up her nose. "That's what you're here to do."  
"I suggest that you turn the club a little more towards the rough, because if you hit it now, it would be impossible to find."  
"Ya think so? Ok, then, let's do it your way." Trix adjusted her stance one last time, reaffirmed her grip on the club, pulled her arms back and let it fly. The ball sailed right, then swung back left as she wanted it to, and landed four feet from the green.  
"A well-placed shot, Miss Trix."  
"Well, not bad for a human. You could do better, of course."  
"I merely congratulated you on you shot. Are you ready to go?"  
Trix fixed the sleeve over the head of the club and let it fall back into the bag. Vincent has been my caddie for years, she thought, why am I getting pissy now? "Yeah, c'mon big guy." 


	2. Part 2

Electric Sheep  
Chapter 2  
  
Even wearing soft leather boots, Rhea's footsteps echoed through the marble hallway. Briefly getting off-track of the ceremony, thinking how much it must cost to heat this place, she nearly tripped on the hem of her jet-black dress.  
"At least I won't have to worry about doing that any more," she thought out loud. "Now, if I can only keep my mind on the subject! Arrgh..." Her stately pace lapsed into a near-jog, as was more natural for her, as she went over her instructions again in her head. It was not that the instructions were stogy, out-dated motions, it was just that she particularly did not want to screw this ceremony up. One slip-up and it was back to the archives for.... She didn't even know how long. It could be years until the next one took place. Thankfully, she knew that, should there be another one, she had no problem entering. Her scores impressed, and in some cases, surpassed so many of the Pantheon's members, she was an immediate candidate for the Grand Bout. Just as she was thinking of her friend's face when the scores were handed out, she snapped back to the present. Looking around, she realized she had nearly disqualified herself already. I really need to concentrate more, she thought, beginning the ceremony.  
  
"So, Alex, which one of them is your choice?"  
"Her, in the black.  
"They're all in black, idiot. Now, which one is she?  
"There, third for the right."  
"The one with the spaced-out look?"  
"Her name's Rhea, and she's not spacy."  
"I know her name, Alex. I've heard you ranting about her all week, but she looks distracted."  
"Well, she's not. Unless you call getting two short of a perfect score distracted."  
"Two short? On the physical tests? Nobody scores that high on the first time through. It's almost inhuman."  
"She didn't do as well on the written tests, I'm afraid. It's not that she's not intelligent. It's just that.... ok, she's a little distracted."  
"Told you. Did she happen to get either of the questions I missed?"  
"No. That's why they call them 'the two everyone misses,' Jeff. The one about the tesseracts and the one about a hyper cube."  
"Why do we keep that question in there, anyway?"  
"Easy. To harass the next few potential members, who in turn, harass the next..."  
"One big chain'a hate, eh?"  
"Yes, now quiet. The Bout's starting."  
"You know, your 'pick of the litter' better be damn good with a blade. I know a few friends with a month's worth of credits on her."  
"Oh, don't worry about her. Worry about her opponents. Watch."  
  
With the combatants sat down and hooked up to their stations, the Voice of the Pantheon gave the 2 minute symbol to the players. This meant that everyone was given 2 minutes to get adjusted to the Interface-Simulated Real-Time arena and to come out swinging. Rhea wasted no time preparing herself by watching her opponents, instead of scrimmaging someone else. She studied for patterns, facial expressions, nervous tics, anything to give her a view into her opponents' minds. As the timer in the upper right of her eyesight flickered towards zero, she unsheathed the simulated kitana and kneeled to a stealthy crawl.  
The playing field descended on the combatants like night in the middle of winter. Rhea was on the offensive the second the field fell around her. Gone from her disposition was the spaced look, and the distant thoughts. This was her turf and home field, of course, because she had spent more time in her own mind than in the real world.  
  
"My god, Alex. You did it; she's perfect. Did you know all this beforehand?"  
"I told you. You see how natural she is in the ISRT?"  
"Yes, I did notice. Why is that?"  
"Well, I've been talking to the Core about it, and he got in touch with a few brilliant minds and, well, we think it's because she's done this all the time, and just didn't have a way to show any of it except in the Tower."  
"Are you kidding me? I mean, look at her. Her mental image is bigger, faster, stronger... you're telling me she's been training to be like this all her life?"   
"That's what I said, didn't I?"  
"I can't believe that."  
"Oh, you can't? Look at her play. She's already been through scenarios like this hundreds of times in her life. When she's been ridiculed, harassed, embarrassed, doubtful... whenever someone's found a chink in her armor she's thought about this, and harbored just how she'd do it. She's been repressing it, but it's made her into a machine when she knows no real lives are at stake."  
"A machine...."  
  
Her mind was racing almost as fast as she was. She had tucked morality and second-guessing into a far corner of her mind, the part of her that still knew or cared that she was strapped to a chair in a room with a hunk of metal stuck in the base of her neck. She owned the combatants; they were hers to do as she wished. Years of being shoved around, pushed down, and cast aside came flooding through now, making her almost enjoy tripping and slashing an opponent before slipping back to the shadows. She didn't care about winning or losing anymore, or even what the members of the Pantheon thought; this was her place. She would be here even if she was cast out. Again. Her father would never care. Wait, where did that come from? She slipped out of the mode, just for a second, and it was all her unknowing victim needed to hear to start him running. Back in gear, she resolved not to let this one get away, and went back to the hunt.  
  
"Computer," the desk sergeant barked, "what's the status of that punk on 5th and Elm?"  
"Officers report the suspect is in a local detention unit. The suspect is 5' 8'', Caucasian, male, and believed to be Dennis Derhite, though suspect will not confirm."  
"Get me a confirmation of that, pronto. Pull up anything you can, ID, credit chits, birth records, you know the drill. Anything else I should be aware of?"  
"Yes, Sergeant. The Caesar is going to be making a public announcement on the advancement of the AI race this coming week. It might be wise to attend."  
"I'll look into it. Thank you, computer."  
"You're welcome, Sergeant." 


End file.
